She felt his c**k starting to soften, that thick weight giving up a little of its hardness against her, and she scooted her ass back so her p***y pressed tighter to it.
She was still wet. The heat of her slit smeared against the underside of his shaft, messy and warm.
His fingers felt too good on her n*****s—slow circles, pinching just enough to make them ache.
She closed her eyes and didn’t open them again until his voice cut through the haze.
“Do you think we should decorate the tree?”
“Oh yes, baby.” Sandra smiled without lifting her head, then added, “These should go on top.”
She peeled her red panties off the couch—still damp with his c*m and her own juice—and tossed them at his face.
They hit his cheek and slid down, leaving a faint wet streak.
“Oh yeah. Damn yeah.” Edward la
